winds esker               
  
                                          
 there was this place that  for two years 
 i couldn't  go  to.  regardless how much 
 discussed  with others, or  pointed  out 
 on maps,  i could not think  of it  when 
 alone. i  would  often  travel past  the 
 fork, where a  right turn  would  surely 
 take me there, but even  then, something 
              kept me away.               
                                          
 when  i  finally got there,  after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,  the   place  was  surreal.   an 
 esker,  like a needle-thin  rift  out in 
 the  lake,   but  ten  meters  high  and 
 adorned in birch,  willow, bracken,  and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice the  view to either  side.  there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't recognize  them.  first off, they 
 were much too close,  as the lake should 
 stretch  for  a  hundred  meters more on 
 both  sides.  but  now  i  felt  i could 
 almost  reach out and  touch  them.  and 
 then, when i  realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they  were of the right  lake.  but this 
       lake is large, fractured, and      
 bipartite. like  a pair of  lungs carved 
 into the granite, and with  no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
     impossibly close shores, i slowly    
 understood them as  belonging many miles 
                  away.                   
                                          
 i  examined  the   ridge,  the  treeline 
 above.  was this what you saw  opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                remember.                 
                                          
 carrying forward,  on  the  very tip  of 
 the  esker,  i  found the ruins of  some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
  marble staircases, stone floors beneath 
 the  moss,  and  strange  slabs inserted 
 into  the  slope  like dams  against the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there,  i could  see  across the 
 narrowed lake my entire path  to where i 
 sat:  from the  stairwell  of  my house, 
 through the  old woods behind  the  tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and  then  back  under it, 
 through  the  fancy  villas,  over   the 
 fields, and then that right turn  at the 
                  fork.                   
                                          
 and  then the  stairs  up on  the ridge. 
 thinking back,  this  was  probably  it. 
 hidden  in  a  grove, there were  stairs 
 much  like  the ones i currently sat on, 
 old  and  worn down,  that lead  you  up 
 onto the esker.  the point of entry. had 
 i insted  opted to walk  the path at its 
 foot,  i'm sure  my experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the  lake,  there   were  people  in 
 boats.  i wondered,  could they even see 
 me?  if  i shouted, would  they  turn to 
         stare right through me?